


Observatory

by Greensilver (Trelkez)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-28
Updated: 2009-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-02 19:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trelkez/pseuds/Greensilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow was falling so fast and thick the night sky had turned inside out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observatory

Snow was falling so fast and thick the night sky had turned inside out, and from horizon to horizon, the world was a swirling, churning white with twinkling spots of deep blue. Flakes were piling up on all sides of the observatory dome under which Jack stood, but overhead, the view was clear; the smooth glass dome was surrounded by a narrow energy field, and the snowflakes melted and evaporated instantly wherever they hit. He didn't really understand the science behind that, or why anyone would build an observatory just to witness a blizzard, but he had to admit, it looked pretty damned cool. He'd never seen snow pile up that fast; already, the accumulated snowfall towered over the dome.

"This is probably how ants feel in January," he said to Daniel, almost whispering. There wasn't really a need to whisper -- the local scientists were chattering on at light speed, and Carter was right there with them -- but he couldn't help it. Something about the visual spectacle of being surrounded by mountains of snow just _required_ whispering.

"In the Alps," Daniel added, craning his neck back a little further until he was staring at a point directly above his head. Jack tried to figure out what exactly Daniel was looking at, but there was nothing special in that spot; just pure white in motion, with occasional pin-sized glimpses of the night sky beyond the storm. "Though, I'm not sure there _are_ ants in the Alps in January."

"There are ants everywhere." Jack had to force himself to look away from the blizzard and do a quick visual check of the area. There was no need, really, because Teal'c was strolling around the observatory with his hands clasped behind his back, exuding the too-casual vibe that always put people on notice. These scrawny scientist types weren't going to pull anything, not with Teal'c staring them down, and that left Jack free to resume gaping at the sky. "Even in the Alps, in January."

"Hmm," Daniel said, clearly already on another train of thought. He finally looked away from that one spot overhead, reaching up to pluck off his glasses and scrub at his eyes with one hand. "Good thing we're visiting at night, because by day, it'd be--" He shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and gestured with his glasses all at once, a symphony of Daniel-speak. Jack got the point; the observatory lights were little more than kid-sized nightlights, throwing only tiny circles of dim illumination, but the snow caught and reflected those tiny bits of light so brightly that his eyes were starting to tear up. The overall effect was miles ahead of the worst snow blindness Colorado winter had to offer.

"Yeah." Jack tugged the brim of his hat down a little further, to better block out the storm in progress; it still looked spectacular, but that spectacle was starting to wear thin. "Hey, Carter, are we getting a move on or what?"

The local scientists turned as a unit, giving him identical looks of surprise and dismay. Carter didn't even bother to turn around, just mumbled a quick, "sure are, sir," and shielded her eyes with one hand as she went right back to staring up into the blizzard.

"You only just arrived," the tallest scientist protested, taking a few steps toward Jack and Daniel. "The storm--"

"Is fantastic," Jack said, making a big gesture up at the dome. "Light shows back home have _nothing_ on you guys, honest. We'll be back for the next one, which is -- Carter, when does this happen again?"

She finally tore her gaze away from the observation dome, giving him a look he was used to from Daniel, the one that meant he'd just made some huge cultural gaffe by wearing a hat or saying hello or, in this case, asking about the weather.

"The phenomenon repeats every eighty years, sir," she said, fighting back a smile. Daniel was not-smiling, too; even Teal'c looked less stoic than usual.

Eighty years? _Someone_ might lead a team here again in eighty years, but it sure as hell wouldn't be him.

"Fine," Jack said, much to the relief of the scientists. "Go back to whatever it was you were doing."

Carter turned her back to him, diving right back into an animated stream of technobabble he didn't try to follow.

Daniel slid on his sunglasses, tilting his head back up toward the storm.

"Think about it, Jack," he said, waving at the dome, at the snowflakes that vanished overhead, at the pinpoints of deep blue that shimmered like stars. "In eighty years, we'll be--"

"Old," Jack said. Daniel gave him a long look from behind his sunglasses, but didn't argue; he only angled a little closer to Jack, so that their shoulders were nearly touching. "Except for Teal'c. He'll still be a spring chicken."

"Jack--"

"He'll be running rings around your grandkids." Jack spun a finger in a lazy circle through the air. "Hell, he'll be running rings around your _grandkids'_ grandkids."

"_Jack_." Daniel settled a hand between Jack's shoulders, the touch so light Jack barely felt it at all. "Look up."

Overhead, the wall of white was beginning to dissolve, showing more and more of the night sky beyond the storm. The furious whirl of snow slowed to a steady fall, and then a scattering of flakes, and then, nothing; the stars were merely stars again, points of white in an expanse of blue-black. The storm had ended so quickly that Jack might have imagined it, if not for the skyscraper-high piles of accumulation that surrounded the observation dome on all sides.

"Hey, Daniel," Jack said quietly, squinting up at the stars. "Meet you back here in eighty years?"

"Sure, Jack," Daniel said, in his best _I'll humor you, for now_ voice. "Same time, same place. I'll be almost a hundred and twenty."

"Spring chicken," Jack said again, a broad sweep of his arm taking in the aliens, the dome, the snow, his team. "You wouldn't want to miss _this_, would you?"

Daniel just smiled up at the sky, his touch lingering longer than it should have, like snow after a storm.


End file.
